The little wrens nesting in the wisteria by the front door start to sing. Their chorus a minute or so earlier every morning. Bob and Sophie join in. Soon Angus is sitting on the doorstep one sheepdog on his lap, another on his right foot. Our morning ' everything's fine with the world ' chat.
Then they're off. Two balls of fluff hurtling across the lawn in pursuit of blackbirds. Tops of their tails visible as they crest the ridge and head off into the sea of harebells and slipper orchids that line the path to the stream. The wild gladioli , half pink half white, making a first appearance . Then they're suddenly back . Muzzles and paws wet from the waterfall , faces radiant with mischief. The word tentative doesn't appear in a young sheepdogs vocabulary.
Baguette crumbs from the bakers wife . Then home to break as many rules as possible.